Safe Haven
by MrsHJBlack
Summary: Stephen is a mysterious young man with a dark secret, who has suddenly moved to the quiet town of Southport. Brendan is a widower, trying to raise his two young children. Can these two men help each other out of the darkness? Set in America, based on the movie 'Safe Haven'. I don't own anything
1. Chapter 1

The sky is overcast, and the rain begins to pour, indicating that a storm is on the way. A young man, in his early twenties, with longish brown hair, came running out of a house, in terror. He was only wearing tracksuit bottoms and a t-shirt, with no shoes, and carrying a plastic bag. He ran across the street and began to bang on a neighbours door.

"Open the door!" he begged. "Open the door!"

An older woman answered the door and took in the sight in front of her. "Oh my gosh! What's the matter?" she asked.

"I don't know what happened," the young man told her, with tears running down his face.

"Are you ok?" the woman asked. The young man began to sob. "Oh, Ste," the neighbour said as she pulled him into a hug.

* * *

A young man, in a hoodie, with short blond hair, walked quickly through the rain and into the bus station, carrying a plastic bag.

"There you are, sir," said the man behind the ticket desk, as he handed him his ticket. "Thank you."

The blond man walked away quickly towards the couch park, when he bumped into another passenger.

"I'm so sorry," the passenger said. "Are you alright?"

The young man ignored him and continued to rush for the bus, as police sirens sounded outside.

Detective Doug Carter got out of the police car. "Come on," he said to another police officer as he rushed inside. He jogged to the ticked desk. "Excuse me, I'm sorry," he said as pushed passed a queue of people waiting. He held a photograph of a young man, with longish brown hair, to the man behind the desk, and asked, "Have you seen this man?"

"I don't think so," said the man.

"Are you sure?" Detective Carter asked.

"Pretty sure."

* * *

The young blond man ran through the coach park, found the right bus, and got on.

* * *

Detective Carter ran up to a couple of passengers and held up the photograph again. "Guys, have you seen this man?"

The passenger took the photograph, looked at it, and said, "Isn't he blonde, with shorter hair, maybe?" before Detective Carter began to run through the station again.

* * *

The blonde man walked to the back of the bus, constantly looking around him.

* * *

The Detective ran outside to the coach park, and in front of a bus. "Stop the bus!" he shouted, as he held up his police badge. "Boston PD!" He got onto the bus and searched it, before going back and getting off again.

* * *

The young man looked out of the window and saw the Detective run towards another bus.

"Hey, stop the bus!" he heard the detective say. "Open up!"

He leant back in his seat and breathed a sigh of relief as his bus passed the detective without being stopped.

Detective Carter stood in the middle of the road, in the rain, watching as the bus left the station, without being able to stop it.


	2. Chapter 2

_Flashback/Nightmare_

* * *

A few hours later, the bus was driving through the mountains. The sun was high in the sky, shining brightly over the clear blue sea. The bus came to a stop in a small seaside town.

"We'll be stopping for 15 minutes here in Southport," the driver said as the passengers began to get off the bus.

The young blond man got off the bus and looked around at the peaceful sea and the serene atmosphere.

"Do you have any fresh coffee?" he heard a woman say. He looked to the side and saw one of the passengers standing at the counter in the town's store, speaking to a slightly older man behind the counter. "It's so thick, it tastes like lukewarm blood."

"I don't know what to say," he heard the man reply in a thick Irish accent.

"You'll have to throw it out," the woman said.

"It's fresh, Ethiopian blend," the store worker said.

"It's not," the woman insisted. "I've never tasted Ethiopian that tasted like that."

"It's Ethiopian," the store worker repeated as he showed her the jar it came in.

"It's Ethiopian?" the woman asked in disbelief before walking out of the store.

The blond man walked into the store, picked up a coffee and placed it on the counter.

"Just the mud for you, then?" the Irishman asked jokingly. The blond took out his wallet without answering. "Er, that'll be 97 cents."

The young man hands over a dollar note, and the store worker gave him his change.

"Thank you," the blond said, before leaving the store. He walked along the pier, drinking his coffee slowly. He leant against a wooden barrier, and peacefully watched the beautiful scenery.

"Tastes like it's been there since the dawn of man," he heard the same woman complain. He turned and saw that everyone was beginning to get back on the bus. "And I wish they wouldn't take us to places like this."

He looked around at the serenity of the town as the doors closed and the bus drove away, leaving him behind.

* * *

Detective Doug Carter walked into the Boston Police Station, carrying a water bottle. "Hey, did you catch the game?" he asked his colleague, Deputy Bass. "The pitcher's killing it."

"We got the security footage from the bus station," Deputy Bass told him. "Want me to take a look?"

"No, I got it," Det Carter told him as he told the USB stick. He sat at his computer, downloaded the footage and began to watch.

* * *

The blond man waked along the beach and set up a place to sleep under the pier. The next morning, he walked through the ton and saw the store owner leave the shop with young children, before sitting down in the sand, near the café.

"Ok, how many in your party?" he heard a café worker ask. "Three?"

He stood from the sand and walked into the café. "Excuse me?" he said to the woman behind the counter.

"Yeah?" the woman replied.

"Is your owner available?"

"I'm the owner. My name is Christa. How can I help you?"

"Er, do you guys have any job openings?"

"Well, we've been awfully busy lately. I can work you in, maybe. Do you have any experience?"

Before he could answer, a loud hissing noise came from the coffee machine behind him, making him jump in fright.

Christa laughed at his reaction. "So sorry."

"Yes, I have experience," the young man said looking embarrassed, as they both laughed.

* * *

Detective Carter continued to watch the security footage. He was watching the footage of the Atlanta bus service and sees a man running for the bus.

He paused the tape, and looked closer at the image. He saw that the man was young, with short, blond hair, and immediately recognised him.

"I'll be damned," he whispered in disbelief at the footage.

* * *

Christa was teaching the young man how to best serve the customers. "Don't hover at the tables," she told him, as they walked through the café. "Make sure their glasses are always filled. And ask them if they need something, but don't ask more than once." They reached the main counter. "When you hear this ding …" she pushed the bell on the counter, "… try to beat me up here more times than I beat you."

The blond was being shown around a small cabin by a realtor.

"Perfect size for you," the realtor explained. "It's got hardwood floors, some wainscoting. It's a great location to town. A little bit of a fixer-upper, but it's got a lot of potential." They walked out onto the porch. "What do you think?"

He looked around at the secluded area, and said, "I'll take it."

* * *

_He was struggling as he fought for the knife._

The blond woke with a start. He heard a noise outside and went to investigate. He walked into the living room and saw the window was wide open. The young man rushed to close it. He slowly stepped back, when suddenly there was a loud crack as his foot fell through a floorboard and he fell to the floor. The next morning, he sat at the table in the kitchen, drinking coffee, with a look of contemplation.

He woke through the town and into the store. He grabbed a basket, before beginning to do his shopping.

* * *

The Irish store owner was out the back, getting the delivery. A young boy was walking along the edge of a boat that was tied up in the water outside, carrying a fishing rod.

The Irishman looked over at the boy, before shouting "Paddy, two feet on the dock. I'm not going to tell you again." He saw Paddy jump into the boat, before he turned back to the delivery.

* * *

The blond man finished his shopping and walked up to the counter, but saw that no one was there. Suddenly a young girl stood from behind the counter.

"Hi," the girl said.

"Hi," the blond replied with uncertainty. The girl began to ring through his shopping. "Erm, are you mum and dad around."

"Erm, no, but I can help you. You looking for anything?"

"Well, not that you ask," the blond said cheerfully, "do you have any paint?"

"We have this book with all different kind of colours that you can get."

"Really?" he asked with a smile. "That would be great."

"What are you painting?"

"I'm painting my kitchen floor," he told her as he leant against the counter.

The young girl laughed. "The floor?"

"Why is that funny?"

"Cause you usually don't paint floors."

"Well I'm thinking that I wanna brighten the place up, so what's a happy colour?"

"There's yellow," the girl said.

"Yellow," the blond replied with contemplation.

"Yeah. Colour of the sun."

"That is happy," he said with a smile. "I think you just sold me on that."

"I can go get some samples of it," she said, as she began to move from behind the counter. "I'm Leah."

"Ok. I'm Stephen," the blond replied with a smile

"Hi, Stephen."

"Thank you," Stephen said, as Leah ran off to look for the book of colours.

The store owner and another man came into the store, carrying a package. "Lower on three," the Irishman said. "One, two …"

"Three," the other finished, as they placed the package on the floor, before he walked away.

The store owner watched him leave, before muttering to himself, "I'll just grab the rest." He turned to leave, when he saw the blond man at the counter. "You're still here?" he asked in surprise as he walked over to the counter. "Let me check you out." He grabbed an empty bag from behind the counter. "It's just usually people are just passing through, you know? It's kind of a pit stop. Ten minutes is usually enough."

"I like it," Stephen told him.

"Yeah?" the Irishman asked.

"Found it!" Leah shouted, as she held up a book.

"Thank you," Stephen said, as Leah came back to the counter.

"No, that's not for …" the Irishman began, before looking at the younger man. "You painting something?"

"He needs to paint his floors in his kitchen," Leah told him.

"Ah, ok."

"I can take it home?" Stephen asked as he took the book.

"Yeah, yeah, take it home. Pick out your colour and we'll order it up for you."

"Thank you."

The Irishman began to ring up the items as Leah put them into the bag.

"Rice?" The store owner asked as he picked up the bag. "Ah, Basmati, the king of rices." He rang it through, before throwing it sideways to Leah, who caught it easily.

"Good catch," Stephen said, as Leah put it into the bag.

The Irishman continued to ring through the items as Leah packs them. "And that'll be 18 even," he said when he was finished.

"Ok, thank you," Stephen said as he handed over the money.

"Here's your change." He then pointed to a box on the floor in front of the counter. "We have some books down here, they're free. People just leave them on vacation."

"Yeah, you can take a book," Leah said.

Stephen picked up his bag. "Well, thank you, Leah."

"Bye," Leah replied.

"Grab a book," the store owner insisted.

"Yeah, they're really good books," Leah said.

"How do you know?" the Irishman asked, as Stephen took a book at random. "You never read any of them." Leah laughed as Stephen left the store.

"You want me to go get Paddy?" Leah asked her father.

"Yeah, go grab Paddy, will ya?" Leah ran from behind the counter and out of the back door.

The co-owner, Mack, came back into the store and looked at him. ""The King of rices""? he laughed, before walking out of the back door, leaving the Irishman with a slight look of embarrassment.


	3. Chapter 3

Stephen was working at the café, when he saw two police officers walk in. He panicked, and turned around and hid to the side.

"Hey, Christa," he heard the Police Officer greet

Christa was wiping the tables, when she looked up. "Hey."

"Hey, you okay?" a waitress asked Stephen.

"Yeah, I'm fine," he smiled slightly.

"You looking for somebody?" he heard Christa ask.

"I sure am. Got a White Honda Civic parked in an handicap space outside. You wouldn't happen to know the owner, would you?"

"Sorry, can't help you there."

"You got our lunch?" the officer asked.

"Stephen!" Christa shouted. Stephen started, and turned around suddenly, knocking into a shelf of cups. Christa and the officer looked at him. "You got the Chief's order?"

Stephen grabbed the bag from the counter and checked the label, before walking over. "Sorry it took so long," he said.

"Oh, no problem at all," the officer replied.

* * *

When Stephen arrived back at his cabin, he saw a woman in her thirties, with long brunette hair, looking through his windows.

"Can I help you?" he asked.

"Oh!" The woman jumped, and turned to see him watching her. "Oh, er, you scared me. Ah, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to be snooping." She had an embarrassed smile. "Erm, I wish I had a good excuse, but it's just idle curiosity. You're the first neighbour I've had out here in ages."

"My realtor said I didn't have close neighbours," Stephen told her.

"Oh, well, I'm not close by city standard," she explained. "I'm Susanne, by the way."

"Stephen."

"Nice to meet you. Erm, look, I moved out here for the same reason as you, I think, to get some peace and quiet, so I get it if you just …"

"Yeah, I like the fact that I can hear myself think," Stephen smiled as he looked around.

"Yes, thank you. I mean isn't it nice to be away from all that noise and chatter?" Susanne chuckled. "I mean it can be a little bit deafening sometimes, so it is nice to meet somebody as rustically inclined as I am."

"Yeah."

"Well, it was nice to meet you."

"Yeah, you too."

"I'm down the road if you need anything," Susanne told him. "I'm stronger than I look, so if you in any trouble … Okay, I'm sorry again."

"It's ok."

"Ok."

"Walk safe."

"Thank you."

Susanne began to walk down the road, and Stephen turned and went inside.

* * *

In Boston, Detective Carter was at the bus station, talking to a member of staff behind the ticket desk.

"How many stops are on your route to Atlanta?" he asked.

"At Atlanta?"

"Yeah."

"Quite a few," the man said. "I wouldn't know off hand."

"You got a ballpark?"

"Come on, buddy," a guy waiting said to him impatiently. "You gonna buy ticket or what?"

Det Carter turned to the passenger. "Er, no, I'm not gonna buy a ticket, but I can help you." He took out his police badge and held it up to another employee. "Can we open another window for my friend here?" he asked before turning back to his ticket window. "Okay, so…"

"The whole Eastern seaboard," the man said as he showed the detective a map of the route.

"Down to Atlanta," he sighed. "What happens in Atlanta?"

"Well, where do you want to go," the employee asked.

"Where can you go from Atlanta?" Detective Carter asked impatiently.

"Anywhere," the man told him. "Atlanta is out southern hub. There are routes to every city in America from there."

Back at the Police Department, Detective Carter sat behind his desk, as he looked on his computer at map of all the routes from Atlanta, that lead all over the country. He threw his pen angrily at his desk.

"Hey, everything okay?" his colleague asked.

"Ah, shit. Job just got a little harder, that's all."

* * *

In Southport, Paddy ran out of his house, carrying fishing gear, and ran across to the pier. Stephen saw him as he walked passed and towards the store. Inside the store, Christa was doing her shopping.

"Hey," she heard Leah say.

"Hey, Leah," Stephen replied.

"I haven't seen those kids in ages," Christa said to the owner. "They're growing up fast."

Outside, Leah was lying on a blanket, surrounded by paper and colouring pens.

"What are you doing?" Stephen asked her.

"I'm drawing."

"Drawing? What are you drawing?"

"I don't know yet," she told him. In front of her was a piece of paper, where she had drawn the beach, with an orange creature flying across the page.

"Hmm, looks sorta like a … carrot," he said, as he looked at the paper.

"No," she chuckled.

"No?"

Inside the store, Christa was next to the counter. "You need to bring them by and let me see them all," she said to the owner. "I'm missing 'em bad."

"Maybe this weekend," the owner replied.

Outside, Stephen was trying to work out what the drawing was. "Is it a dragonfly?" he asked.

"No, it's a flying fish," Leah told him.

Stephen looked up and saw the store owner watching through the window, before he turned back to Leah. "A flying fish."

"Hi, Stephen," Christa called to him.

"Hey," he replied.

Christa saw the store owner watching Stephen, and she gave him a knowing look. "See ya," she said, before leaving.

Stephen walked into the store. "Hi."

"Oh, hey," the owner said in his thick Irish accent.

"So, I picked out a colour from the sampled," Stephen said as he showed him the colour chart, "and I'm thinking I'm gonna go with 'Lemon Twist'."

"Ok," the owner said as he looked at the chart. "You're gonna paint the floors yellow?"

"Yeah. Why not?" he asked.

"You sure about that?"

"Yeah, it works."

"No, it's a good idea," the owner agreed. "How much paint to do you want?"

Stephen thought for a moment, before answering. "Erm, probably a gallon."

"A gallon?"

"Yeah."

"Ok, I'll put the order in now. Hopefully we can get it by Monday."

"Great, thanks," Stephen said to him gratefully.

The Irishman walked away to put the order in, as Stephen walked over to the box of free books and put the book he borrowed back.

"I'm gonna need a name and a number," the Irishman called to him, "so that I can call you when the order comes in."

"My name's Stephen," he said as he walked over, "and no number. I'll just stop by Monday."

"Ok," he replied. "I'm Brendan, so you know who to ask for when you come back." He points to the man standing near-by. "This is Mack. We're usually around here."

"That it?" Stephen asked.

"That's it."

"Ok, thanks." Stephen turned and left the store.

"When did we start selling paint?" Mack asked as Stephen left.

"Today," Brendan replied.

As he left the store, Stephen stopped to see Leah's drawing. "The drawing looks good," he told her.

"Thank you," Leah said. "Would you like it?"

"Really?"

"Yeah, I can just make another," she said as she sat up and handed him the painting.

"Aw, you're so sweet," he told her. "Thank you. I love it. Give me a hug." He bent down and hugged her. "Thank you," he said as he stood back up. "Have a good day." Stephen turned and began to walk away.

Throughout the interaction, Paddy was sat on the pier, watching with a hurt look.


End file.
